


The General Point of View

by MoragMacPherson



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, In Memory of Carrie Fisher, Moral Dilemmas, POV First Person, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, episode ix was supposed to be her movie so i gave it to her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21887860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoragMacPherson/pseuds/MoragMacPherson
Summary: Leia knew what had to be done.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	The General Point of View

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to eisoj5 for her quick beta of what's basically my reaction fic to Rise of Skywalker. The tags about spoilers are no joke, and this fic is entirely canon compliant. Consider yourselves warned.

Luke was the one who forgave our father. Luke had a kind heart. Maybe he got that from our mother. Or maybe it was Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru, raising up the gentle, free farm boy Luke insists that Vader should have been. Might have been either, I never knew any of them.

My parents, my real ones, the ones who raised me, were monarchs and politicians. They founded a rebellion. They taught me pragmatism, patience, and sacrifice.

Or maybe I have as much of my other father in me as some have said.

Or maybe it doesn't matter. I was always my own person, after all. And not a monster. Only a monster would plot against her infant son.

Later, though… as I said. I learned pragmatism, patience, and sacrifice.

My father tortured me for hours then held me back while he blew up my parents, my home. So I understood, at the last, what needed to be done.

According to one of the Jedi masters that Luke speaks to through the Force, our father had no father at all. My jealousy, honestly, is palpable. 

Does Rey feel the same? Maybe, maybe not. She's a bit more like my brother. 

But never mind that.

What needed to be done: yes, I could have done it earlier. But here's the thing: unlike certain members of my family, I never had a death wish. But when all other alternatives were lost, then there was only the one choice.

You never want to be a monster. At least, I didn't. But could you be a monster, if you had to be?

Some things, you go out of your way to not acknowledge.

But I knew what was to be done. At the end of my path as a Jedi was the death of my son. On Endor I brought him into being, and at Endor, I brought him to an end.

The galaxy, after all, has suffered long enough from the existence of the Skywalkers.

I was always sneakier than my brother or husband. Don't tell him anything. Don't raise a saber. No need to be showy when you could simply get things done. And Rey, with her strength, helped.

Yes, I know how young she is. But I watched her become an adult— watched her train and suffer and withstand the constant nagging of the creature my infant son grew into. She deserved better. I never once touched her. Of all the things she deserves, and she deserves so many, she deserves so much better than anything we Skywalkers were able to give her.

I distracted him, she ran him through, and I made my move.

Luke always marveled at my gift with mind tricks. And taught me to not abuse them.

But Luke was gone, and I was left.

Rey poured her life into that body, that flesh I created, home of the mind where I had invaded. It helped me take control. 

I'm not sure I could have done it without her. My son was always strong. A fighter.

But we all have our weaknesses. A vision of a father's forgiveness— and he was placated. 

I never let him wake up. It was far too important that he not. Besides, I knew I could succeed where my mother, my brother, my father, my son had all failed. It was probably more mercy than he deserved, but maybe I have a gentle side as well.

Were we all monsters? 

Perhaps. 

But we weren't Palpatine.

Rey isn't one at all. She's the best argument that maybe it wasn't my bloodline to blame for what I did. It was my own decision. I was my own person, and my family owed the galaxy the debt of a trillion lives and more.

So I did it. I sacrificed all. I brought it to an end. And I poured that life, my son's and mine, which we had all too badly squandered, back into her. She deserved that, certainly more than we ever did.

For it all, I got a kiss. The last kiss of many in my life, and perhaps the sweetest.

Do you think she saw me, my own brown eyes, in those last moments? 

Yes, I know. Stupidly sentimental to hope so. I'm a dirty old woman. I might be a monster. I stole one kiss.

But rejoice, for now I'm dead and gone and the rest of you, the whole galaxy, goes on.


End file.
